


Remedy

by cyndisision



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, I had to look up Merle's name because "Leslie's fiancée" doesn't cut it, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Smut and Angst, but somehow less angst than there could have been, implied Leslie/Merle, implied future Cloud/Tifa/Aerith, spoilers through chapter 15, they are both in love with other people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndisision/pseuds/cyndisision
Summary: After their adventure in the sewers, Leslie invites Cloud and company to rest in Don Corneo's mansion for the night. He knows Cloud is in love with someone else (two someones!), but so is he, and maybe, just for one night, they can both stop thinking about what they've lost.
Relationships: Leslie Kyle/Cloud Strife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by birdinastorm, but all mistakes are entirely my responsibility.

Twilight always came early down in the slums, but by the time they made it up out of the sewers it was indisputably late. The hubbub from the nearby Wall Market streets had a different tenor than usual, no longer the rowdy, forced joy of people blowing gil that had been months in the saving, determined to make this a night to remember. Tonight, through the hushed chatter of people forced to abandon everything they owned beyond what they could carry, every plan they’d made for the future, broke the cries of the wounded, the sobs of the desperate… and the sounds of children. There were children who lived in Wall Market, of course, but their parents generally kept them out of sight lest they be forced to grow up before their time. Tonight, there was crying, yes, but also the sounds of chattering, of play.

Leslie watched the rest of the group as they hauled themselves to the top of the ladder. Cloud, always first to run ahead, wound tight like a coiled spring, was already up, standing near enough that Leslie could feel the heat of him as they waited for the others.

What was it that drove these three to put themselves on the line over and over again for friends, strangers, even people they had every reason to distrust?

They were fighters, Leslie knew that before he’d ever seen them in action. Something about the way that Tifa and Cloud carried themselves made it impossible to ignore, for those with eyes to see it. Perhaps if Leslie had been a fighter… no, this was no time to fall back into that endless cycle of guilt and rage. This was a time for action. Corneo’s hold on this place was broken, and these three had given him hope, but more importantly than that, they had given him an opportunity.

Cresting the top of the ladder, Tifa hesitated, hearing the same sounds that Leslie heard. He could see in her eyes that she was torn, that she wanted to dust herself off and launch back into the search for survivors. He could also see the bone-deep weariness that wafted off her in waves, mingling with the sewer stink.

Barret, nimble despite his size and his one-handedness, brought up the rear. He was the kind of guy who would always have your back, once he claimed you as part of his family. Rock solid and reliable. Leslie imagined he could still feel the weight of Barret’s massive hand on Leslie’s shoulder, and the echo of his words: “You all right.” Something about that itched at him, but he didn’t want to think about it right now. 

“Alright! We kicked some bad guy ass!” Barret celebrated, but even though Leslie barely knew the guy, he could hear the forced note.

“Yeah,” said Tifa, tightening her gloves, “but there’s still so much work to be done.”

Leslie hefted the sack he was carrying. “Here,” he said, pulling out one of the devices inside. “Grappling guns. The Sector 7 slums are the other side of that wall. But bear in mind it’s a one-way trip; once you get up there you can’t come back down.”

He gestured to the looming concrete edifice nearby, with its massive splash of bright red graffiti: “AVALANCHE.” How many times had he walked by it, had he rolled his eyes at the self-righteousness of the eco-terrorists trying to brand themselves the saviors of the slums? Well, he knew better now. The sight of it stirred something like determination within him.

“But,” he said, putting the grappling gun back into the sack, “it’s getting late. You’ve been running about for days. And you said it yourself: Aerith’s not going anywhere. How about a good night’s sleep before you go?”

He looked at Cloud; Cloud looked at Tifa. Tifa hesitated.

“And a shower?” Leslie suggested, sweetening the pot.

That won the day. He saw Tifa’s resistance crumble.

They had the run of Corneo’s mansion, now, but through silent mutual agreement nobody even suggested sleeping in Corneo’s room, in his… bed. Leslie led Cloud into the rooms where the girls had stayed, and sifting through the garbage and disorder, they found two futon mattresses that still had their stuffing. Barret and Tifa worked on clearing space in two of the upper rooms.

“What are you going to do now?” Cloud asked as they made their way up the stairs, each hauling a mattress. This was, Leslie thought, the first time he had initiated a conversation that wasn’t entirely pragmatic.

“I have a few ideas of where to find leads on Merle,” he replied, “but it’s going to be a long road.” 

He paused on a landing, easing the mattress to the ground and flexing his hands to give them a break. Cloud stopped a few stairs ahead, mattress held easily on one shoulder. Leslie eyed him, caught between envy and some other feeling he was not quite ready to name. Cloud’s slender frame, and the grace with which he carried himself, gave no indication of the wiry, pent-up strength held inside.

“And in the meantime?”

Leslie swept his hand in a gesture meant to encompass the mansion, the wealth that surrounded them.

“Lots of needy people washing up in Wall Market,” he said. “This could all go a long way.”

Cloud nodded, his expression even, but Leslie thought he could sense approval. “How’d a good guy like you end up working for Corneo anyway?”

Leslie paused in the midst of massaging a circle on the pad at the base of his left thumb. He looked down at his palms, imagining he could see the blood on them. “Not a lot of options,” he said, willing Cloud to drop the subject.

Whether or not he could read Leslie’s mind, Cloud grunted an acknowledgement and didn’t press. He shifted the weight of the mattress on his shoulder and set off up the stairs again, Leslie following behind.

There was a moment, after they all converged in the upper hallway, when Leslie braced himself for an awkward negotiation of who was sleeping where, but after an unreadable look passed between Tifa and Cloud, Tifa turned toward the opposite door, motioning Barret with her. Cloud, impassive as ever, jerked his chin upward to indicate that Leslie should lead the way.

He puttered around the room while Cloud took his shower, strangely anxious. He’d offered the trio hospitality because he felt like he owed them for his deception down in the sewers. He hadn’t thought as far as the reality of having them in his space. Would Cloud be picky about which side he slept on? Should Leslie offer to take the floor? Where would Cloud want to put his stuff?

This was stupid. The guy was an ex-SOLDIER and a mercenary; he’d surely bedded down in much worse circumstances. Why did Leslie feel such an urge to impress him? Why had he waffled and second-guessed himself over what to wear after his shower? Should he get dressed again? Grab a robe? He’d always had this image in his mind of SOLDIERs being the type to horse around in the locker room, snapping towels and giving each other shit, not much concerned with casual states of undress, but now he’d met Cloud, he couldn’t imagine it. Was Cloud unusual, or were all SOLDIERs intense, monosyllabic types?

Finally, Leslie settled on a t-shirt and loose pants, stuffed his feelings back down, and set about cleaning up.

Tifa and Barret had swept the broken ceramic and smashed wood into one corner, but Leslie now spent some time salvaging the unbroken pieces and placing them back on the shelves. He could sell all this topside for decent gil, set some aside, give out the rest. Once things here settled down, he’d take what he’d stashed and set out after Merle. He laid her pendant carefully on the dresser, and let his fingertips trail over the golden petals of the flower. Next came his gun, the one he’d held to Corneo’s head and never got the chance to fire. He should have known. He should have known better than to think he could ever get one over on Corneo. The Don may have played up his pleasure-seeking image, but underneath he was hard and ruthless. How else had he cheated and backstabbed his way to the top?

As he laid the gun on the dresser next to Merle’s flower, Leslie gasped, abruptly and vividly taken back to the moment when this gun was held to his own head, when he thought for sure he was dead. It must have been only a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity as he waited for the gunshot that would be the last sound he heard in this lifetime. And then, suddenly, unexpected and unhoped for, Cloud’s blade against the side of Don Corneo’s neck, the Don’s eyes widening in surprise and fear. Leslie’s heart pounded at the memory, his fingers trembling as he withdrew them from the gun on the dresser.

The door clicked open, and he looked up before he could think better of it, knowing that too much still showed on his face. He hated himself for the vulnerability. This was the kind of thing that got you killed, in Corneo’s ranks.

But he wasn’t in Corneo’s ranks any more, was he? Thanks, in part, to Cloud.

Cloud stood there in the doorway watching him with those unfathomable mako-tinted eyes. He was fresh from the shower, pants slung slow around his waist, torso bare, with a towel over his shoulder, his skin tinged pink from the heat.

Leslie cleared his throat. “Um, make yourself at home,” he said.

Cloud nodded, stepped into the room, kicked the door shut behind himself, and dropped his stuff on the floor on the side nearest the door. Well, that settled that.

“So, uh,” Leslie began, unsure of where this sentence would go. “You and Tifa aren’t. I mean, when you barged in here ready to burn it all to the ground for her, I thought for sure…” He trailed off, kicking himself. What the hell was wrong with him today? The last thing he wanted was to pry into Cloud’s personal business.

Cloud, toweling his hair dry, paused for a moment. Then he resumed, slower and more thoughtfully, before tossing the towel over the back of a chair. Leslie waited for him to speak, expecting a grunt or a dismissive, “We’re just friends.”

Instead, Cloud took a long, slow breath. “Tifa and I…” he said, finally. “We’ve… we’ve been friends for so long, we don’t know how to…”

“How to make the transition,” filled in Leslie, after the silence had stretched out for a while.

Cloud nodded.

“And Aerith?” Leslie pressed, emboldened by Cloud’s unexpected honesty.

“Yeah, she really cares for Aerith.” The words cares for had a weight and a reverence that Leslie hadn’t heard from Cloud before.

Leslie blinked. This conversation had him all off-balance. “No, I meant, you…”

Cloud gave something like a wry smile. “I,” he said, “am under strict instruction not to fall in love with Aerith.” He looked away, an ineffable sadness written in the curve of his neck. “But…”

“Too late.”

“Too late,” Cloud echoed.

“Whew,” said Leslie, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sounds like the three of you have some talking to do.”

Cloud gave a snort that was nearly a laugh. “Oh yeah, talking: my strong suit,” he said.

“Or you could look pretty and mysterious and agree with the two of them while they talk it out.” 

Cloud looked up when he said ‘pretty’, and Leslie winced. That was twice now he’d called Cloud pretty to his face. Admittedly, the first time was when he was telling Cloud why Don Corneo would have no use for him. And then Cloud had showed back up wearing The Dress.

Leslie was suddenly very aware that he was thinking about Cloud in The Dress while Cloud fixed him with that piercing gaze. Was Cloud the type to call him on it, get mad about it? Maybe he would let him get away with it. 

“Pretty?” said Cloud, determined not to let him get away with it.

“Sorry,” Leslie rushed to say. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

As he spoke, Cloud’s face did something… disappointed? That couldn’t be right.

“Unless… you want me to mean something?” said Leslie, before he could talk himself out of it. He held his breath while he studied Cloud’s reaction.

Cloud opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. While it was clear he wasn’t a big talker, it was strange to see him at such a loss. “What about—” he began, then glanced at the pendant, lying on the dresser with its chain curling in a gentle spiral.

“Merle?” finished Leslie. He didn’t look at the pendant, couldn’t look at it right now. “Until two hours ago I’d mostly managed to convince myself she was dead. Now? I guess I have a mission.”

“Does your mission start tonight?” Cloud asked, taking a step closer to him.

Leslie’s heart ached. He knew all the reasons why they shouldn’t. But Cloud was here, and he was warm and vibrant, and alive. Even if Merle was still out there, he had no clue how long it would take to track her down, or how different things would be between them then.

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of any of that, what came out was: “You’re wrong about me, you know.”

Cloud didn’t step closer, but neither did he step away. Two creases formed between his eyebrows as he frowned in confusion.

“I’m not a good guy,” explained Leslie. “I. You know what I’ve done. I didn’t like it, sure, but I went along with it. Until it happened to Merle.”

Cloud didn’t move, but now it seemed like he was looking through him, into the distance, or into the past.

“You think I’m a good guy? I’ve been a SOLDIER, a mercenary. I’m not out here trying to save the world.”

“Maybe not at first. But look at everything you did for Sector 7! How many people you’ve helped.”

“Everything I do to help, it just causes more harm,” said Cloud, glancing down, and his voice was matter of fact, but Leslie had been watching him closely enough to tell that emotions were roiling beneath the surface. “They dropped that plate on the slums because of what we did.”

It was Leslie’s turn to take a step closer. If he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have moved, but because conscious thought was receding into the past, and all action was now taken purely on instinct, he reached out, resting his hand on Cloud’s shoulder, aware of the dense, compact muscle beneath his fingers, warm and solid. He tried not to think about how Cloud was still shirtless.

“Is that what you really believe?” he said. “Or do you think Shinra would have done what suits them, and your involvement was just a convenience.”

Cloud looked up again at him, and his face was more open than Leslie had ever seen it.

“They would have dropped the plate,” Leslie went on, “and everyone would have died. You saved so many people, Cloud. You saved—you saved me.”

Cloud started to shake his head, but Leslie slid his hand up to cup the ex-SOLDIER’s jaw for a moment. Cloud’s head stilled, but Leslie didn’t think he imagined the other man leaning slightly into his touch.

“I don’t just mean back there when Corneo—when he had a gun to my head.” Leslie pressed on, gritting his teeth and swallowing, to suppress the memory. He couldn’t hold eye contact any longer, and let his eyes drop so they were fixed somewhere in the region of Cloud’s clavicle; there was just too much raw emotion to share with the other man. To his surprise, he felt Cloud’s hands come up to rest on his hips, steady and warm, encouraging him to go on. Leslie let his own hands rest on Cloud’s upper arms, and swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn’t break.

“Imagine how long I’d been here, working for him, hating myself a little more each day, thinking he was untouchable. Then you came along, and you tore him down in one night. One freakin’ night!” Leslie looked back up into Cloud’s eyes, and laughed in wonder, just thinking about it. “I’d twisted myself in knots, figuring I could carve away a little of his power here and there, strategizing about how to let slip his weaknesses to Rhodea and the others. Then you and Aerith, in your borrowed dresses… I mean, damn!”

The expression on Cloud’s face was more open than Leslie would have imagined. His eyes were shining, his lips parted.

“Maybe neither of us were good guys,” Leslie said, “but the future is still open.”

It was because of all of them—because of Tifa and Aerith and Barret and Cloud—that he wanted to do better, but it was because of Cloud alone that he felt he might be capable. Because Cloud kept insisting he was a mercenary only in it for the cash even as he put himself in harm’s way over and over. 

He opened his mouth to say this, but the words caught in his throat. Perhaps Cloud knew anyway, because he drew Leslie closer to him, hands still gripping Leslie’s hips.

“So let’s just… have something nice,” Leslie said instead, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. “One night without thinking about what we’ve lost.”

When he opened his eyes again, Cloud’s face was inches from his own, Cloud’s eyes studying him, waiting for permission. Leslie still found himself frozen. He wanted this so badly, but he struggled to make the first move. Cloud had just told him he was in love with someone else—two someones, one of whom was right here in the next room!—so what was he doing, getting in the way of that? What right did he have?

He parted his lips, willing Cloud to read his mind and make the first move. He had no idea what was showing on his face right now, but whatever it was, he knew it went against all the years he’d spent training himself to show nothing, to feel nothing.

When Cloud’s lips finally brushed his, they were soft, yielding. The kiss was gentle, leaving room for Leslie to deepen it if he wanted.

Oh goddess, did he want it.

He pressed closer, allowing himself to run his palms over Cloud’s arms, to enjoy the swell of muscle there. He could feel the heat radiating from Cloud’s body, the pent-up, tightly contained strength. Cloud was only an inch or two taller, his shoulders only a little broader, but Leslie knew the other man could bat him around the room like a kitten if he chose.

Cloud made no move to pull him closer or hold him tighter, but as Leslie pressed against him, chest to chest, those hands on his hips held him fast. A little groan escaped him, and Cloud nipped at his bottom lip, eliciting more groans and gasps. They kissed for a long time, a leisurely exploration, Cloud holding back until Leslie was desperate to speed things up. He could feel the heat of Cloud’s arousal so close to his own, tantalizingly close.

Leslie hadn’t imagined this situation, exactly, but if he had, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have pictured the mercenary being so… considerate. He let a few words of encouragement fall from his lips: “Yes,” and, “Oh goddess, that feels so good.”

Finally, as his eyes fluttered closed, he felt Cloud’s hands moving up from his hips to slide under his thin t-shirt. Cloud had nice hands, neatly trimmed nails at the end of long elegant fingers, but even with the gloves he habitually wore, he had calluses from years of sword fighting, and when he gave Leslie’s waist a little squeeze, his grip was uncannily strong. 

Leslie made a sound best transcribed as, “hgnk!” and felt Cloud’s smile against his mouth. He swallowed before speaking, hoping his voice wouldn’t fail him entirely. “I’m a bit overdressed here,” he said.

“Mm,” Cloud agreed, “let’s even things up a bit.” He took the hem of Leslie’s shirt in his grip, and made as if to tear it up the middle, but stopped.

Leslie opened his eyes to find Cloud’s, teasing, looking back at him.

“Oh, you were just gonna let me?” said Cloud.

“Let you? I encourage you.”

Cloud held eye contact as he tore the shirt from waist to neckline, and Leslie felt his legs wobble. His head fell back and his lips parted, and Cloud took the opportunity to slip the shoulders of the torn t-shirt down Leslie’s arms, stopping at the elbow so Leslie found himself pleasantly tangled in the destroyed garment.

“Bed?” asked Cloud.

Leslie nodded, his mouth dry. “Bed,” he made himself say aloud.

Cloud maneuvered him the few short feet to the futon mattress, and lowered him gently onto it. Leslie tried to reach for him, but found his movement restricted by the shirt he was still half-wearing, now trapped beneath his back. 

“Something you want?” said Cloud with false innocence.

Leslie’s mouth opened, the word, “You,” poised and ready to fall from it, but that was a little too raw, so he swallowed, his eyes flicking away from Cloud’s intense gaze. “Something I don’t want,” he said instead, forcing a teasing note into his voice. “Pants.”

Cloud huffed a quiet laugh and set about sliding the loose pants down Leslie’s legs, discarding them onto the floor. Leslie felt very exposed, his arms entangled, but otherwise naked. His cock ached with desire, and Cloud knelt between his legs, his heated gaze flicking between Leslie’s cock and his face.

“Please—” was all Leslie could manage to say.

Cloud clearly understood him, because he lowered his head to hover closely above Leslie’s cock, his breath ghosting warmly across the already overheated skin. Leslie gasped when he felt Cloud’s tongue flick out, tasting him, gently at first, and then more firmly, licking a stripe up him to take his head into his mouth.

Leslie’s hips bucked involuntarily, and Cloud shifted so that he could lay one arm across Leslie’s stomach, holding him against the mattress while Cloud worked his cock expertly with his mouth and other hand.

With his restricted range of motion, he could still reach Cloud’s head, to run his hands gently through that silky blond hair as his head bobbed up and down, increasing in pace and intensity.

“Yes,” Leslie gasped. “Yes!”

He felt Cloud hum, the vibrations intensifying the sensation of his mouth. It was electric, buzzing through his whole body.

The sound that came out of his mouth was strangled. Cloud gently eased back and pulled his mouth away. Leslie grasped at him, missing the heat already.

“Wha—?” he asked, barely capable of language.

“I don’t want you to come yet,” said Cloud, far too coherent still, looking up at Leslie through his lashes. “I want you inside me.”

Leslie felt his heart pounding, both at the heated way Cloud said this, and at the images that sprang immediately into his mind. After a moment, he realized Cloud was waiting for his response.

“Y-yes,” he managed. “I want that too.”

Cloud pushed himself up fluidly, until he was standing, and shed his pants with more efficiency than flair. Leslie realized he hadn’t put on underwear after his shower, and he shivered with pleasure to think of it. Cloud was hard – Leslie had felt it against his leg earlier – and he stood on the mattress between Leslie’s knees, naked and completely unselfconscious. His dick was thick and flushed, and Leslie had the sudden urge to get his hands on it.

He watched as Cloud strode across the room to the chair where his clothes lay draped, and bent to root around in a pocket. Leslie propped himself up on his elbows to take in the view, the definition of the muscles in Cloud’s lean body. Cloud must have sensed him watching, because he stopped his search long enough to look up and cast a smirk back at Leslie.

“See something you like?” said Cloud.

“Sure do,” said Leslie, suddenly more coherent now that he wasn’t in direct contact with Cloud’s skin, his hands. “Now get your ass back here.”

“Oh, I plan to,” said Cloud, flourishing the tube that he had managed at last to fish out of his pocket. He advanced back toward Leslie in a manner that could only be described as stalking, graceful but efficient. Leslie suppressed a shiver, wondering for how many creatures, how many people, this had been one of the last things they ever saw.

Well… maybe that walk, but definitely not that expression. That heated gaze, intense, expectant.

“You wanna do this or should I?” Cloud twirled the tube between his fingers.

“I want to,” said Leslie, his voice barely more than a whisper. He shuffled over to make room for Cloud on the mattress next to him.

“You ever done this before?”

Leslie wasn’t sure whether he meant with a guy, or just anal in general, but either way, the answer was—“A few times, yeah.”

Cloud lay beside him, pressing his mouth to Leslie’s mouth, and the tube into Leslie’s hand. They lay on their sides face to face and kissed for a few minutes, enjoying the tangle of tongues and of limbs. The brief minute they spent without touching had shifted the urgency down a few notches, and they allowed themselves to explore more languidly.

Eventually, Leslie wriggled his top arm out of the destroyed t-shirt and flipped the cap of the tube open, squeezing a dollop onto his fingers. He slid his hand down, Cloud obligingly shifting his leg so that it was draped solidly over Leslie’s waist, until he had access.

He took his time opening Cloud up, kissing his mouth, his neck, his lightly freckled shoulders. Cloud’s breath began to come more unevenly, hitching and gasping as Leslie pressed a second finger inside him, and eventually a third.

“Is that good?”

Cloud nodded, his eyes half lidded, his pupils dilated with desire. “Yeah, good,” he could just about manage. 

Leslie smiled. Good to know he could reduce Cloud to this shaking, panting wreck, that he wasn’t the only one having trouble with words this evening.

Before he could get too cocky with that thought, though, Cloud’s eyes opened, locking with his own.

“Enough foreplay,” the merc said, his voice a low growl that sent a pleasant shiver down Leslie’s spine.

“How do you wanna—” Leslie began, but before he could get his sentence out, Cloud had him flipped over onto his back again and was rolling a condom onto him. “Yeah, tha—that’ll work,” gasped Leslie.

Cloud paused. “That’ll work?” he teased, but Leslie could tell he was checking that everything was still good.

“I want—,” Leslie amended, and if the words were hard to say it was only because he was unused to naming his desires. “I want to be inside you so bad.”

Cloud gave a pleasurable shiver at the words, and slung his leg over Leslie until he sat astride. He looked down at the other man with a hunger in his eyes that made Leslie’s breath catch. One of Cloud’s palms smoothed Leslie’s chest, and the other reached back to grasp the base of his cock. Keeping that irresistible eye contact, Cloud sank down slowly, painfully slowly. Leslie’s heart pounded, but he resisted the urge to thrust upward for as long as he could. Finally, Cloud bottomed out, resting for a moment, adjusting to the sensation. His breath came raggedly and he felt so tight around Leslie, so hot, that Leslie felt light-headed; it made him glad to be lying down.

It came as a relief when Cloud finally began to move, the slow drag and slide setting Leslie’s nerves on fire. He controlled his movements with his powerful thigh muscles, leaving his hands free to roam over Leslie’s skin. Leslie met him thrust for thrust, as the pace gradually built, gripping Cloud’s hip with one hand. The other, he wrapped around Cloud’s cock, smiling when the other man gasped in pleasure.

“Yeah,” said Cloud, “like that.”

Cloud thrust back onto Leslie’s cock, then forward into Leslie’s hand, the rhythm increasing and intensifying. “Just like that,” he said again, breathier and more urgent.

Leslie looked up into Cloud’s face; his eyes were half-lidded, his mouth open, his lips shining wet, plump and red from kissing. A bead of sweat rolled down his chest, and Leslie couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to swipe it with his thumb, before bringing the thumb to his own lips to lick the salt from it. Cloud shivered and picked up the pace again.

“I’m—” Cloud panted. “I’m close!”

“Goddess,” breathed Leslie.

Cloud leaned forward to kiss Leslie again, gasping and panting into his mouth, as Leslie felt Cloud’s cock throb in his hand, trapped between their stomachs. Cloud kept moving through his own orgasm, the rhythm stuttering as he came, and starting up more languidly after, leaning on his hands, either side of Leslie’s head. Leslie thrust a few more times before he came, pulsing inside Cloud.

Cloud eased gently off him, to collapse on his back beside Leslie, one hand draped across his own chest.

Leslie allowed himself a minute to breathe, his thoughts blissfully quiet and his body tingling with contentment. “I should clean up,” he said eventually, suddenly aware of the sticky mess on his belly.

He got up, took a moment to wrap himself in a robe, and stepped quietly out of the room, careful to click the door closed behind him. The hallway was dim, except a sliver of light peeking out from beneath the door of the room that Tifa and Barret shared. A sudden anxiety washed over Leslie. Had they heard? He and Cloud hadn’t been extravagantly loud or anything, but they hadn’t taken particular pains to be quiet. His worries from earlier, about messing things up between Cloud and the others, crept back into him, insidious whispers that wound themselves around his chest until his heart fluttered and he found it hard to breathe. Would he be able to look Tifa in the eye tomorrow?

On the plus side, the chances of all of them surviving their respective desperate quests and actually meeting again after this were… negligible? Yeah, that seemed about right.

Safely in the bathroom, the door locked behind him, alone, he cleaned himself up quickly, then leaned on the counter, studying his face in the mirror. This was fucked up. Merle could be out there somewhere, alone, and he was… what? Having no-strings-attached fun with any passing hot stranger? He’d endangered Cloud and Aerith by letting them get through to the Don’s inner sanctum. It worked out fine, but he wasn’t to know that at the time. His reflection glared back at him, defiant, and he opened the cabinet just so that the mirror wouldn’t be facing him anymore.

He scrubbed his teeth maybe a little harder than he really needed to, and left the cabinet door ajar just so he wouldn’t have to look at himself again.

Slipping back into the bedroom, he was surprised to find Cloud alert, lying on his side facing the door with the cover pulled up over his legs and hips, looking contented and well-fucked.

“You’re not asleep?” Leslie asked before he could stop himself.

In reply, Cloud lifted the edge of the cover, inviting Leslie to join him.

“Here,” said Leslie, holding out a damp washcloth. “Thought you might want to clean up.”

“Thanks,” said Cloud, and shuffled over to make more room. He swiftly wiped himself down and tossed the washcloth into the corner of the room. 

Leslie lowered himself onto the mattress, uncertain of what to do with his limbs. There never usually seemed to be this many of them, nor did they take up this much space.

“You think too much,” he heard Cloud mutter behind him, his breath warm on Leslie’s neck.

Leslie let out the breath that he’d been holding, and allowed himself to relax into the other man’s warmth, Cloud’s arm draped comfortably over him. Neither of them thought again until morning.


End file.
